Emrys' Residence
by No.311
Summary: A new resident has set up shop in Camelot. Problem: This resident is a sorcerer, and is being particularly cheeky about it. So Uther sends Arthur to get the sorcerer out of his kingdom, preferably without his life. Beware(!), for here be banter! (T, for now)
1. Prologue

"GUARDS!"

Uther cried, as the man stood, unmovingly, before the throne. The guards, however, didn't act immediately, and Uther let his nervousness be known.

"GUARDS! HE IS A SORCERER! KILL HIM WHERE HE STANDS!"

The man smiled. It was an open smile, nothing Arthur would have expected from an abomination, a blight upon the land. His blue eyes twinkled, and Arthur couldn't help to think that maybe there was something more to magic than what he had been thought, just before his conditioned response kicked in and squashed those thoughts.

"GUARDS!" Uther cried, one last time, and tried to stand up himself. He failed, struggling in his seat as he tried to force the (what was no doubt an) enchantment that tied him to his chair.

"Is this how you treat all of your subjects, Uther?" The man, really just a boy, said with a smile on his face. Arthur knew what was coming now. He doubted that any of them would leave these halls alive. Such was the curse of magic, to corrupt and destroy all good in its practitioners. They couldn't be forgiven for practicing magic, for they were not the same as when they started it. When a man started practicing magic, he threw away his ability to do good, so his father had taught him.

Uther glared at the man, no doubt because of the thinly veiled gloating the sorcerer had thrown at him.

" _Sorcerer_." Uther spat out, eventually. His father knew that sometimes, patience was a virtue.

"King." The sorcerer shot back. "I didn't know we addressed each other by aliases here. Mind if I still call you Uther? You're technically not my king yet, you know?" The man took a chair from the long table present, and sat down, one leg put over the other.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You mean you're not here to kill him?"

"Well, Arthur, goo—" The sorcerer started.

"— _Do not_ listen to him, son! He is a sorcerer, do not fall for his tricks!" Uther grounded out, humiliated by his position, but still unwilling to dismiss this potential not-threat.

"Yes, thank you too, Uther. Your opinion is appreciated, but the thing I was going to say was a tiny bit more important:"

The crowd waited in bated breath while the magic-practitioner let a small silence fall.

"May I have an apple? The harvest was good this year, I heard, and I've been dying to find out just how good."

Arthur groaned, while Uther growled. If he wasn't a sorcerer, he knew he would have cuffed the boyish man over the head. But this could be a trick.

"Well?" The man said. "Can I?"

The vein that appeared on Uther's head worried Arthur, so he decided to take the matter in his own hands.

"State your business, sorcerer. And let it be clear that if you disrespect the King one more time, we will have your head, enchantment or no!"

"Fine, fine." The man said. He grumbled something under his breath, which offended Arthur for some reason, until he continued:

"I was here to tell you all I am going to live here. Right under your noses, in fact. And you cannot do a thing about it." The man smiled cheekily, eyes twinkling once again.

Arthur spluttered. "What makes you so sure of that? We have the best knights in all of Albion!"

The sorcerer just gave him a deadpan look, and gestured towards the frozen people. "Is your head full of cotton, _sire_?"

"ENOUGH!" Uther suddenly shouted, grabbing the sorcerer's attention. "I don't know what you want from us, hellspawn, but magic is punishable by death! Submit yourself!"

"Or else?" The man said, one eyebrow cocked curiously.

"We will make you." Uther almost hissed the last part.

The corner of the man's mouth shot up in an almighty smirk. "Make me, then."

The man turned around, and strolled leisurely towards the door. He opened them with some elaborate hand waving, which made Uther's vein more apparent, and then turned around and bowed. "When you're in the city, don't hesitate to visit me. Just ask for Emrys' residence. Goodbye!"


	2. Intrusion

**I** **ntrusion**

* * *

Arthur had come prepared. A dozen guards and eight knights. His father had argued that they should bring down the whole force upon the slightly smaller than average house he now stood in front of, but he had eventually conceded to Arthur's point of stealth. This was the compromise they came to, in the end.

With some sign-language, Arthur directed the guards to stand on all available sides of the house, while he also divided his knights in groups of four, one for the back door, one for the front. He himself was now approaching the door.

"In name of the king, open the door!" He shouted, as regal as he could. He heard some stumbling, some cursing and some footfalls before the door slowly opened…

…before being thrown open in its entirety with a surprising move, to reveal a blackhaired man that was decidedly _not_ Emrys standing behind it.

Arthur stared, and blinked a few times.

"You're not the sorcerer." Arthur pointed dumbstruck at the man.

"Noooo, princess. Of course I'm not. Does he have hair as good as mine? I think not." The man grinned roguishly. He started to grin even wider when he saw Arthur's face contort in disgust a bit.

"Where is the sorcerer? He has committed high treason, and it's my duty to retrieve him." Arthur said.

"Oho! Big words! You sure you know what they mean?" The man joked at him, only for Arthur to roll his eyes in annoyance. He had played nice long enough.

In a flash, he brought his sword up to the man's throat, in a move he had practiced to perfection in his many years of training. This time, however, it was deflected by another blade, which had come out of nowhere, and was in the stranger's hand.

"I don't take kindly to people out to behead me on the doorstep of my current home. State your business or sod off." A dangerous glint had come to the man's eye, and Arthur found himself take a battle stance, ready for the possible impending scuffle.

"Where did that sword come from?" Arthur demanded, instead. He was prince here, not the stranger. "Are you a sorcerer too?"

The man's stance slacked suddenly, as he took on a thoughtful pose. "Nope. I don't think I am. How are the apples, by the way?"

"Apples, wha—" But Arthur was interrupted by a crunch next to him. He turned his head at breakneck speed, only to find the sorcerer standing next to him.

"Deyre goof!" The sorcerer said, with full mouth, before gulping his bite down. "This year was a good one, Gwaine. I've brought you some, too."

Several of Arthur's guards ran for their lives.

"Not a brave lot, are they?" Gwaine remarked.

"I hope they're not the best in all of Camelot. For your sake, 'f course." The Sorcerer threatened him, with a smile and a goofy stance. Arthur narrowed his eyes. It was a trick, he knew.

"Sorcerer!" Arthur spoke. The sorcerer's stance straightened, and he _mocked_ Arthur with a mock-salute.

Next to him, the other man ( _Gwaine_ , Arthur recalled) was obviously trying to be annoying with another mock-salute.

"Yes!"

"In the name of the King, I arrest you for high-treason by ways of practicing magic!" The sorcerer's salute fell back to his sides, his eyes wide ( _in fear,_ Arthur knew. _Good_ ), as were Gwaine's.

It was silent, but Arthur was tense. Now, the sorcerer would attack him, and try to kill him, as was its instinct. He readied his sword, and…

"That's it?" …dropped the sword in shock. Quickly, he picked it back up. The sorcerer was a crafty one, one with cunning, to make him lose his focus like that.

"Yes. Now come with me quietly and…" Drat. He couldn't exactly say ' _and your life may yet be spared_ ', could he? "…you may yet have a painless death."

Gwaine sniggered: "Sure!"

Arthur glared at him.

"Do not worry, my Prince…" The Sorcerer bowed with a flourish. Arthur's eye twitched. The sorcerer stood straight, and walked straight to Arthur, making the remaining soldiers brandish their swords.

In passing, The Sorcerer gave him a clap on the back. "…for I do not practice magic!"

Gwaine burst out in laughter, and the Sorcerer closed the door of the house behind him.

Laughter could be heard for several minutes afterwards, and after that, much crunching was heard, as if the sorcerer was using apples in his dark rituals to kill perfectly fine cats.

Even when he was undergoing purifying remedies from Gaius to counteract the most evil magicks the sorcerer must have enacted upon him with that clap on the back, only one thought went through Arthur's head: "What?"

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed. Bye!**

 **No.311**


	3. A Case of Rogue Sorcerers

**A Case of Rogue Sorcerers**

* * *

Deep in the night, silent footsteps didn't sound in the empty halls of the majestic castle of Camelot. A door opened, but nothing could be heard, as if the intruder was a sorcerer who had cast a wicked spell of silence on himself (probably a he). This sorcerer also definitely did not have a gigantic ego was obviously not walking through the halls as if he was king.

Of course, he really wasn't, as he didn't have the age nor the perpetual frown and no-nonsense outlook on life as the king of Camelot. Neither was he a grudge-keeping man, nor was he discriminating to any kind of people found in the realm. No, this was a logical man.

At least, that is what the future liberator liked to think as he strode through the halls of those blasted, ne'er-do-well royals whose blasted king killed his wife's cousin-in-law's uncle's sister. For that, the king's son needed to bloody die! If even a logical man such as he could come to a conclusion like that, it must be true.

So, prince Arthur –no good royal bum who never did anything to contribute to the lives of the actually working people– needed to die. Yes.

He silently ran into a pillar. Nobody could hear his cursing, courtesy of the good forethought this man had given to his night of action. Really, it was almost too easy!

He opened a door to the room his source had told him was the prince's. He opened the door, and crept into the dark, well-decorated sleeping chambers. He first slid behind a pillar, and cast a sleeping charm. His cackles of glee did not reach the prince's ears as he reminisced about the funny fact that, were he to fail in killing the prince (which he obviously wouldn't), the prince would at least have a nasty headache –a side effect of the spell.

He swooped towards the bed of his victim, and slowly rose in such a way that a potential innocent bystander would scream from the maniacal face slowly appearing above the prince's figure.

It would be perfect… Except that the figure wasn't the prince. It was the king, Uther Pendragon (that devil of a man who was a cunning tyrant as well as neglectful but still too involved and an idiot). The sorcerer's smile slid off his face. He didn't come here to kill the king! Where was the fun in that? The king needed to suffer, just as he had suffered from the loss of his wife's cousin-in-law's uncle's sister! Silently cursing, he strode gracefully out of the chambers.

It was a bit strange, the lack of guards at the king's door, but he paid it no heed. He had other things to do.

Sadly, he never got to do them before he was whacked on the head.

* * *

Arthur felt himself slowly coming to consciousness, so he groaned, annoyed at the wicked sun that made him have to rise to meet the coming day. He kept his eyes closed and stuffed his head face-first into his cushion on purpose to block the scourge of his night's rest, but eventually, he had to face the duties of the crown. So he flopped on his back and cracked one bleary eye open.

Relief flooded his system, as he saw no light, not even the half-light that signaled a new day beyond his curtains. However, the relief was short lived. While he didn't spot any light, he did spot a silhouette softly moving towards him. An assassin!

He was trained for this, and slowly, he snaked his hand towards the sword on his bedside. When he found nothing there (the assassin had done his job well, it seemed), he reached for the dagger hidden behind his cushion. Gripping the sturdy wooden hilt, he steeled himself as the assassin raised his sword in preparation of the deadly strike obviously meant for him (it was not like he allowed the castle cats in his room, so it couldn't be them).

The assassin struck, but Arthur was fast, and deflected the blade at the last possible second. He then used the minimal delay it gave the assassin to strike back. The assassin was hit in the shoulder and hissed. It was a distinctly female hiss, information which Arthur filed away in his head as he rose quickly to follow the assassin to capture her for questioning.

Her eyes glowed gold, and Arthur scrapped his earlier line of thinking. She was too dangerous and had to be killed. On the other hand, whatever information she had could be useful.

"Surrender, witch, and you may have a merciful death!" He said, although he failed to see the fun the witch saw in it.

"How are you going to stop me, _your highness_? With your dagger?"

He looked at his hand. The dagger had transformed into a carrot. He threw it a meter in front of the witch's feet and lunged to the right, narrowly missing a sword strike that now hit thin air.

"GUARDS!" He shouted as he grabbed hold of the panic cord in his room and pulled. There, a time-limit on the fight. Then he went for the witches legs, but she side-jumped him, and he transitioned into a smooth forward roll.

The witch laughed softly, as Arthur glared at her. She didn't seem the gloating type, but Arthur understood the meaning all the same: She didn't expect him to survive.

They'd see about that.

Arthur took cover behind his upper left bedpost, but the witch's sword bent around his bedpost, missing him by a hair. Blasted magic! He rolled onto his bed and took his sheets, waiting for an opportunity to restrain her. She jumped on the bed, standing to his kneeling, and pointed the sword at him, something he could work with. Now he only had to…

"I didn't know you were into this kind of play, Arthur!"

Arthur would have flustered, but his training prevented it. The witch, though, had never had such training and turned around, lunging towards the voice. She was stopped in midair, by very familiar magic.

"Emrys…" he ground out. "I didn't take you for the subtle assassination type either."

"Well, luckily for you, I'm not." Emrys stepped out of the shadows, and snapped his fingers. His eyes glowed gold, Arthur gritted his teeth and the witch fell to the floor, unconscious.

"So you're the showy type then, _sorcerer_ , here to finish me off with fireworks?" Arthur said condescendingly. "Or is it you that has some secret desires?" Arthur finished with a victorious stare.

"Well, I _do_ have secret desires… _sire_..." Emrys made sure the last word was very drawn out, as he slowly inched closer towards the witch and Arthur.

"But not romantically involving you. Have you seen the lady Morgana? You simply don't compare!" Emrys sniggered.

Arthur's eyebrow twitched upwards. "I will tell her you said so." This was information he could use.

"Planning to use that against me?" Merlin glanced sideways, before leaning in conspiratorially. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"When I was four," He started, "I did my very first act of evil. I secretly broke the window of my house."

"And how is that _evil_ , sorcerer." Arthur humored the sorcerer. "When I was four, I broke a lot more than windows."

"Ah," Emrys crooned. "But did you do it with magic?" Arthur looked at the man questioningly. What was he trying to prove here?

"Nothing, of course." Could the sorcerer read his mind? _Was he cursed or under a wicked spell?!_

"No. You just make it very, very easy." The sorcerer straightened and moved towards the fallen witch.

The fallen witch! Arthur shot upwards immediately, and went for his spare sword in the closet. Why were the guards not here yet?! He turned towards Emrys, and brandished his sword.

"What have you done to the guards?!"

"Who, me? Seriously, _milord_ , if I wanted to kill the guards, I would have done so that day I graciously presented myself in front of the court."

"That was just a ploy of yours, wasn't it, _practitioner of magic_?" Arthur had learned that sorcerers always had plans within plans.

"I'll have to disappoint you, _sire_. They were gone when I came in." Gone? Dead?

"Why should I trust you. I know these assassin types. They only make a mess after their job is done."

"Who said she has done it?" Emrys said, grinning.

"Well, who else would do it if not you!" Arthur frowned.

"The men I stowed into Uther's cupboard, perhaps? Or the novice who, for some reason, didn't kill the king?" Emrys said, counting the people off on his fingers.

"You're not serious!" Arthur cried out (silently, of course).

"But I am, Arthur. There's been a strange increase in wicked magicians lately, though I have no idea why. Neither do I get why so many of them are idiots."

Emrys shifted the witch on his other shoulder.

"Two proficient ones doesn't happen very often." He finished.

" _Emrys_." Arthur drawled. Somehow, it felt almost natural to say it that way. "Are you implying you do this every night?" Arthur smirked.

"Well, not every night, no." Emrys mediated.

Arthur moved in and held the sword to the sorcerer's throat. "In the name of the King, I arrest you for gaining illegal entrance to the King's castle!" Then he added: "And don't you deny it."

Emrys sputtered. "But, but I saved your life, you prat!" Arthur smirked victoriously.

"Which is why I didn't arrest you for tonight, obviously." Emrys rolled his eyes.

"You know, you deserve a completely new word just for that."

"You'll have some time to think about one. In the cells." Arthur said.

"Before you execute the wicked sorcerer that just _saved your life_ , you mean." Emrys accused.

Arthur winced slightly. "Law is law, and you're not above it. You should have thought of the consequences before you started sorcery." Arthur explained, lightly apologetic. The magician was right, loathe as he was to admit it.

Emrys murmured something under his breath. Arthur could make out the word 'mother'.

"Move, _sorcerer_." Emrys frowned at him questioningly. Arthur corrected himself.

"Move, Emrys. To the cells."

"Why would I go with you?" Emrys asked, suddenly smug.

"Well, because I am holding a…" Arthur looked down.

"An apple on a stick?" Emrys offered. Arthur groaned. He was so sick of this.

"Well, it seems it's nearly dawn. I should go back to my house, before the guards wake up." Arthur looked at his curtains, and saw that the room was indeed getting brighter. He closed his eyes in frustration.

With a chuckle, the sorcerer took the witch and disappeared.

* * *

"Why did you want to see me, father?" Arthur saluted dutifully as he approached the king.

"Arthur! The sorcerer Emrys has struck again! This morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and two men inside my closet, both instances no doubt because of the sorcerer! When I tried to leave my room, I was contained in the doorpost as by magic!"

"I can see that, father." Arthur said. Indeed, Uther was hovering a bit above the entrance to his room, unable to move all but his head.

"This cannot continue! He must be stopped." The king raged.

"I see your point, father." The sorcerer certainly had to be stopped, an open mockery of this kingdom's laws hurt it's reputation. "But I cannot do so now, father."

"What did he do!" Uther said in quiet fury.

"He saved my life, father."

"A ploy, Arthur, surely you can see that! No doubt the sorcerer out for your life was sent by him."

"It was a woman, father. He knocked her unconscious and took her with him." Arthur informed his father, leaving out some other things.

Uther's eyes blazed. "The fiend! No doubt this man is a depraved animal. I will have his head on a pike! Arthur, my son, get yourself three- no four!- squadrons of guards and get me his head!"

"That's the other thing, father. The guards are all enchanted and won't wake until next week, Gaius informed me."

"The _fiend_!" Uther struggled to contain his temper. "He will not get away with humiliating me! Send for the Witchfinder!"

* * *

 **I have not watched Merlin for a while, so give criticism where criticism is due. I hope it was funny enough.**

 **Next: A witchfinder fails in getting Emrys burned.**

 **This happens relatively late in this story's timeline (for this story's 'first series').**

 **No.311**


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